


Building Inspection

by Amsel



Category: The Eagle | Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-15
Updated: 2012-11-05
Packaged: 2017-11-02 00:09:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/362828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amsel/pseuds/Amsel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>written for this prompt on the eagle-kink meme: <i>Esca and Marcus are next-door neighbors. Marcus is really really loud when somebody fucks him. Esca can't sleep because he is constantly hard while listening to all those sexy moans, rasped screams and filthy comments...</i><br/>Solution? Esca fucks Marcus into unconsciousness and they both sleep like babies.</p>
<p>Not beta'd.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Getting to know the problem

**Author's Note:**

> written for this prompt on the eagle-kink meme: _Esca and Marcus are next-door neighbors. Marcus is really really loud when somebody fucks him. Esca can't sleep because he is constantly hard while listening to all those sexy moans, rasped screams and filthy comments..._  
>  Solution? Esca fucks Marcus into unconsciousness and they both sleep like babies.
> 
> Not beta'd.

“I hadn't realised American housing had this thin walls, darling,” is Esca's mother's take on the situation. She looked particularly po-faced when saying this, but Esca was not fooled. She was trying hard not to giggle. 

Esca regretted the fact that she was staying the week before flying on to Hawaii to see her second son, who had secured a nice little posting at the Mauna-Kea-Observatory, the jammy bastard. 

Both froze with tea cups half-way to lips when the next set of thumps and groans could be heard from above.

“Yes! Go on, do it! Wanna feel you, make me come!” someone screamed.

“Very energetic. Quite reminds me of your dear father, he had a set of lungs on him too,”

“Well, we never heard you,” Esca says, torn between bad temper and queasiness.

“Lunch-time, luv, lunchtime. What with him being the bank manager, he could take an hour off. And there was always Sunday, when the three of you were in church.”

“Mum!” Esca squeaked. “Please stop,”

His mother grinned. “Didn't take you for a prude, Esca dear,”

“Parent sex, mum! There's things a child does not need to know!”

“Make me feel it! Oh! Stuff me full! Wanna feel you in me when you cum!”

Thump. Smash. A long groan. Rhythmic creaking. A litany of yeahs, in ascending volume.

Esca squirmed. It sounded so hot, and it was so very wrong sitting here with his mum, listening to live porn from above.

“Have you met him yet?” his mum asked, taking another sip out of her cup.

“No,” Esca said, wondering what sort of twink it was. In his head, the boy was thin and reedy, probably good-looking, with plush lips begging to be fucked and a pert little arse... he quickly shook his head to clear it, willed down the half-erection he'd been sporting since the sounds started above and tried to concentrate on other things.

“You should. You really need to meet your neighbours, Esca,” Mrs Cunoval chided. “These large buildings lead to social isolation if the neighbours don't actively talk to each other,”

“Muum,”

“Tell you what. I'll bake Eccles Cakes tomorrow, and you can go around and introduce yourself to everyone,” she went on. 

“I don't think they do that here,” Esca said. “They usually come to you with apple pie,”

“Did anybody visit with apple pie?” Mrs Cunoval asked.

“No,”

“Well, in that case, you'll have to take the first step. If they're horrible, at least you tried. And my Eccles Cakes are beyond compare,”

Esca sighed, then smiled. They really were. 

Both took another contented sip of tea.

“Oooh your COCK! SPLIT ME OPEN! FILL ME!”

A long wail, then silence. The slapping and creaking went on for a bit, then that too, stopped.

“Do you think this is why this flat was available?” his mum asked.


	2. First impressions

Esca left the Eccles Cakes for his noisy neighbour last of all. He had spent the whole day before that meeting the neighbours in the lovely red-brick. Most had invited him in, and apologised for not visiting him before, followed by an embarrassed admission that few people renting that particular flat, or apartment as they called it, stayed long. Esca took this to mean that the sound might travel to him, but not further. 

He arranged the last two Cakes on a pretty blue plate and then set off for upstairs. He knocked on the door sharply,, and waited.  
The door was opened a crack on its security chain. A thin face, with a sharp little nose and rather thin lips, stared out at him.

“Yes?”

Esca was disappointed. There were no full pouty lips. The guy was larger than he had thought, or hoped. 

“Hi. I'm Esca. I've just moved in down below. Thought I'd come round and introduce myself,” he shoved the plate forward.

The door was banged in his face. A minute later, it opened wide, and Esca found himself staring at a thin man with limp brown hair looking him over.

“I'm Placidus. Nice to meet you,” he made no move toward the plate.

“My mum baked some Eccles Cakes for you,” Esca said, making another abortive move with the plate.

“Eccles Cakes?” Placidus asked.

“A speciality from Yorkshire,” Esca answered, feeling upset.

The man took the plate, sniffing the cakes doubtfully.

“Thank you. Very kind. We don't really introduce ourselves to the neighbors in this country. We wait until the neighborhood introduces itself.”

“Well, thank you for the etiquette lesson,” Esca answered. “Do bring the plate back when you've finished with it. You can leave it in front of my door,” he turned and left.

His living room was now full of neighbours, his mum entertaining them and swopping out her recipy for Eccles cakes for the pecan pie being consumed. Peeking into his kitchen, he realised the rest of the house obviously didn't share Placidus' opinion of him, since he was now inundated with dishes and platters of food, ranging from a fruit basket to meat loaf and pumpkin pie. He sighed, smiled, got a beer and joined the impromptu party.

That evening there was a knock at the door. Esca was elbow deep in suds, his mother drying the dishes. 

“Go get that,” she ordered.

“Mum! I'm covered in soap! Can't you go?”

“They are your neighbours. Go be neighbourly!” she ordered.

Grumbling, Esca wiped his arms on his shirt and opened the door.

“Hello?” he started, trailing off.

He was looking at a chest in the loosest excuse for a basketball shirt he had ever seen. It was practically slipping off, exposing an expanse of satiny olive skin stretched over sculpted abs, arms the size of Esca's thighs... Esca's gaze traveled upward. Thick muscled neck supporting a head of brown hair and that face... 

“Guh,” he managed.

“Hi!” the guy beamed at him. Esca's knees went weak. This vision of perfection presented every kink he had. Quickly he dropped his eyes down again, down to the long shorts covering his thighs, showing strong calves, slowly following the lines up to his middle where a strong hand was holding – a blue plate.  
Esca's eyes jerked up. The man was still smiling down on him.

“I'm Marcus, your upstairs neighbor. I wanted to return the plate,” he made a slight motion with his hand.

“Uh. Yes. Thanks. Esca,” he managed to answer, still staring.

“Er. Yeah. I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier. Or that I didn't introduce myself earlier. To be honest, for some reason there's such a high turnover for this apartment that we've kind of stopped going round,” he made another move with the plate.

“Uh. Yeah?” Esca managed.

“The cakes were delicious. Are they a speciality where you come from?”

“Esca? Are you ever coming... Oh. Hello,” his mum turned up behind them.

“Good evening, ma'am. I'm Marcus. Marcus Aquila, I live upstairs. I've come to return the plate,” the vision said with aplomb.

“Oh, how very kind of you. Won't you come in? I'm Niamh MacCunoval, Esca's mother. Just visiting,” she finished, grinning delightedly.

Marcus made another gesture with the plate, and a move forward, and desisted when Esca didn't move. He looked slightly questioning.

“Esca! Take the plate,” his mother ordered.

“Oh. Yeah. Come in,” Esca finally managed and grabbed for the plate, which Marcus extended again, resulting in a little tussle. He managed to catch the plate, and holding it in front of him like a shield, stepped aside to let Marcus through. The man was so large he brushed past him, and Esca inhaled musk and spicy body-wash. He closed the door, watched his mother lead Marcus to the living room and tried to analyse his feelings. And to will down the attraction he felt. Once he composed himself, he followed.

“The cakes really were delicious,” Marcus was saying.

“My family's secret recipy. I'm glad you boys liked them. So what do you do, Marcus?”

“Working for my uncle at the moment. He's got a business in the city.”

“Esca is here doing a post-doc in biology,” his mother boasted.

“Mum! Stop being smug,” Esca intervened. “She loves bragging about her children,” he confided to Marcus. “The weight of expectation is stifling to us.”

“Really, Esca. I have never stifled you with my expectation.”

“So you didn't order champagne when Mael got the junior professorship at Durham?”

“Any mother would be proud of her son in such circumstance.”

“And when Fintan got promoted to assistant commissioner at Scotland Yard?”

“Really, dear, if your next complaint is that I didn't order champagne when you finished your phd with honours at Christ Church, you are very much mistaken.”

Marcus stifled a laugh.

“Have a seat,” Esca said. “Can I get you a drink?”

“A coke would be great,” Marcus said and sat on the couch. He grimaced, and massaged his thigh.

“Let me. You entertain your guest, Esca,” his mum said and marched out.

“Sorry about her,” Esca said. “Mums, you know.”

“I think it's great she cares so much,” Marcus said earnestly. “It must be very nurturing,”

“Possibly, but I'm telling you, I'll be glad when she goes on to nurture Mael in Hawaii,”

“This would be the junior professor?”

“Yeah.”

Marcus smiled again, which made his face so very adorable. Esca felt another hot flush course through him.

“So I met your flatmate, too,” he started.

“Placidus is my boyfriend,” Marcus said carefully, keeping a wary eye on his reaction.

“Oh. That's cool. Yes. Um. So, you've been together long?”

“Bout half a year now,” Marcus said, relaxing back.

“Here you go, dear,” his mum came back, with a tray.

Marcus took the glass gratefully. “Thanks. I need to rehydrate. I've been out on the court with friends,” he gestured at himself.

“You play basket ball? It looks very elegant sport, but only for tall people,” his mother said easily.

“Oh, not at all. The leagues obviously play with tall guys, but anybody can play basket ball...” and he was off, prattling happily about something he did well.

It was surprisingly pleasant, and frustrating, because while before, the disembodied porn from above had been jerk-off material, and meeting the insipid twink had been enough to cool any ardour Esca might have felt, meeting the reason Placidus screamed made it boil up all the more. Lying in bed that night, listening to the wails and the thumps from above, he really wished it was him under Marcus.

“OH GOD YES! DON'T STOP! DO ME LIKE YOU MEAN IT!”

Thump. Thump.

Esca spread his legs and groaned.

“Ohhhoooh. Love it when you fuck me! Like that. YEES!”

Pulling off his boxers, he palmed himself, his cock immediately springing up from its halfmast position it had been in since meeting his hunk of a neighbour. 

“LOVE YOUR COCK SPLITTING ME! Wanna cum with you impaling me, ohh, YEAH!”

Esca bit into the duvet to muffle the sounds he was making, very conscious of the fact his mother was sleeping, or probably not sleeping, across the corridor. His hand moved in a fast motion, tugging himself.

“Go on, DO ME!” Thump. Wail. Thump. Slap. “AhhAHHH!”

With a grunt, Esca felt his balls draw up, his cock hot and heavy, jutting up proudly. He pulled a leg up to his chest, pinched his nipples, reached down to his arse, circled his hole.

“Oh, YEEEESS!”

His cock bucked and started to spurt. Esca sucked in a surprised breath at his lack of control, then lazily rode out the aftershocks, giggling quietly into his duvet. He'd come the same time as that insipid little twink. Marcus had made him come.

He licked his fingers clean, wiped the mess up with his boxers and fell happily asleep.


	3. Familiarity breeds contempt

A month later, Esca was starting to fall asleep in the lab. He had to admit that Marcus had stamina. He went to bed and could listen to sex and was usually awakened for another round early in the morning. Esca could say he was getting used to it, but he had to admit that it kept him up. And, dammit, he was not getting enough potassium either, because every time he felt the need to join in. His jerk-off fantasies now consisted of being thoroughly rogered by Marcus, and the worst of it? He had a crush on the man so bad, because Marcus was utterly likeable. 

He'd taught Esca to shoot hoops, which Esca had deliberately sucked at so that Marcus would position his hands on the ball again and again. He had invited him to watch a game at the local high school, with Placidus scowling and making snide little comments all the while. He had helped put up the new wardrobe Esca had been forced to buy. Marcus was not only a god in the sack, he was a truly nice person. Esca was aware he was turning into a bit of a stalker. 

But the very very worst part? Marcus truly had no idea the walls were so thin. 

Esca had meant to sensitively bring up the subject at some point, but had let time slip, because being in Marcus' company was nice, and if he admitted to listening to the private time between Marcus and Placidus - that was going to go down well, wasn't it?

“Ooooh, yeah, like that,” 

Esca jerked his head up to the ceiling in surprise. Placidus sounded different. And the thumps weren't as loud as usual. 

There was a loud slap, then a series of squeaks, which turned into louder jerky moans. Puzzled, Esca pulled his hands from under the duvet, where they had been deliciously stroking his body. 

Above him, the bed creaked rhythmically, the slapping getting louder. The breathy moans deepened into sighs. 

Were his neighbours experimenting with gags? And didn't that send him on a mind journey, and not really a pleasant one at that. After an unfortunate encounter, Esca had a thing about gags. Utterly turned off, he pulled the cushion over his head. The moans and the banging could still be heard. 

Eventually, sighing, he got out of bed and went to the bathroom cabinet, where the ear plugs his mother had pointedly bought him still sat, pristine in their packet. He slipped them in, which helped with the noise, and went to sleep.

Esca woke up suddenly in the night, with the conviction that something was wrong. Remembering various bits of advice from his brothers, his neighbours and his friends on how to behave in the US, he fished under his bed for a baseball bat he had purchased for this reason, and gripping it tightly, padded out of bed and into the rest of his flat. All was quiet. Heart thudding, he stopped breathing to hear if anyone else was breathing, then had to explosively gasp for air after only twenty seconds. 

Cursing quietly, he scrabbled for the lights, turning all on as he went to check out the other rooms. All was quiet, all was still. All windows were still tightly shut, and his door was still locked and bolted. In the end, he admitted defeat, glanced at the clock, four in the morning, debated whether to go back to bed and then walked into the kitchen to boil some water for tea. There he sat, puzzling what had got him up and feeling out of sorts.

The night dragged on slowly. Esca read some books, graded some papers from his Introduction class in biology, wondered whether he could get rid of the people in his class who referred to the evolutionary process of gnats as God, and then cleaned his kitchen and took his burgeoning waste down to the bins. 

Going out into the hall, he fell over Marcus.

“Ow! Jeez! Fuck. What the hell? Marcus?” was what he intelligently got out.

Marcus jerked up from where he was lying on the hall carpeting. 

“Ouch. Sorry. Good morning Esca,” he said, rubbing his ribs and looking embarrassed.

“What the fuck are you doing out here?” Esca asked. “Did you lose your keys?”

Then cursed himself for that. Marcus had been in bed the night before. Which made his presence even more puzzling.

“Ah,” Marcus started, a red blush blooming on his face. He rubbed his hands on his arms. There were goosebumps all over him.

“Come in,” Esca invited, taking hold of his door and opening it again, waste bag still dangling in his other hand.

Marcus sheepishly crept past him.

“Did I wake you?” he asked quietly.

“Nah. I couldn’t sleep, so I’ve been up for hours. Want something to drink?”

“That be great,” Marcus said, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

Esca dumped the waste back in the bin underneath the sink and rummaged around for some coffee. He didn’t have any.

“Tea ok? I don’t seem to have any coffee left.”

Marcus nodded, not lifting his head.

“Did you lose your keys? And Placidus isn’t awake yet?” Esca asked after a moment, setting out a cup and milk.

Marcus started to nod, then paused and shook his head. He looked miserable. Esca warmed the pot, spooned tea in and poured the boiling water over, then set the pot on the table again.

“Do you want some food? I was just about to start some breakfast for myself,”

Marcus nodded again. 

Esca searched for something he thought Macus might like, got out butter and slipped a couple of slices of bread in the toaster, before starting up his usual porridge. Marcus meanwhile was sipping the tea and looking startled by the taste. 

He looked even more startled by the porridge in Esca's bowl, once it was ready.

“Want some?” Esca asked. 

Marcus decisively shook his head and pulled a slice of toast nearer.

Esca dropped some milk in his porridge and added a spoon of marmalade, gleefully watching Marcus' face. He was impressed by how long he managed to keep the revulsion off it.

“Go on. You can say it,” Esca finally cracked.

“It looks like wallpaper glue!” Marcus finally burst out.

“The British Army marches on this,”

“No wonder we won Independence,” Marcus muttered into his teacup.

Esca laughed. With the creepy silence from Marcus finally broken, he decided to tackle the next subject.

“So, if you were out sleeping in the hall, does that mean you and Placidus had a fight?”

Marcus frowned, looked angry, then nodded.

“He won't let me in,” he finally admitted.

“Sorry,” Esca offered.

“I don't know why, I thought everything was going great!” Marcus suddenly said. “And then, bam! Out of the blue. Says I never care for his needs. I thought...” he stopped, then blushed.

Esca squashed the inappropriate thought that he rather liked the idea of Marcus caring for his needs rather than Placidus', and tried to find some sort of comforting advice to give.

“Maybe it will blow over soon,”

“Or not. We've had fights before, but this is the first time we didn't make up after,” Marcus answered gloomily, and bit into his dry toast.

Esca scratched out the rest of his porridge.

“After we had our fight, I left and went to see some friends of mine. And I probably shouldn't have had so many beers, and come back so late, but... And then when I tried getting into the apartment, Placidus wouldn't let me in.”

“I didn't hear that,” Esca said musingly.

“I hope not. We were both trying to be quiet. It was a very nasty fight with us hissing at each other like cats,” Marcus gave him a small smile.

“But...” Esca started, then quickly shut up, a rather nasty suspicion taking form.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, putting his spoon back into the bowl.

“Get into my apartment, for one thing,” Marcus said, crumbling bits of toast between his fingers. “And then...”

He didn't get further. 

_“Spread, you little bitch!_ ” came from above, followed by a long moan.  
“Gonna do you so hard you'll feel me all day,” Placidus snarled from above.

The rhythmic creaking started up again, and a voice started moaning, then incoherently babbling.

“Good little slut. Take my cock, sloooowly, Oh!”

Marcus dropped his cup.

Esca mentally kicked himself. He should have realised that was a different voice up there.

“It – Placidus has somebody – he's fucking a guy in our bed -” Marcus stammered.

“So that'll be why he wouldn't let you in?” Esca squeaked.

“UHHHAHH”

“BEG ME FOR IT, YOU LITTLE WHORE!”

“PLEASE! GIVE IT TO ME!”

“He's sleeping with other people!” Marcus said, brokenly. He slowly started to get up. “He's fucking somebody else in MY apartment, in MY bed...” 

“Whoa,” Esca said. Marcus was getting angry. His already impressive muscles bulged, his neck seemed to get thicker and vanish between his shoulders.

“GONNA WEAR OUT YOUR LITTLE HOLE!”

Marcus charged out of the kitchen, Esca desperately following. 

It was like watching a Disney cartoon. Marcus charged up the stairs and ploughed into the door without stopping, and the door just – gave up, splintering off the hinges and drunkenly swinging on the security chain. Esca clambered over the wreckage carefully, and ran after the berserker into the bedroom. 

It was an arresting tableau. There was, spread-eagled on the bed, the kind of twink Esca had envisioned Placius to be, staring open-mouthed and terrified at the door. Behind him, and balls-deep in him with two hands clamped around his hips, kneeled Placidus, with a nasty little smile on his face. Marcus was shouting into his face, hands balled into fists at his sides. Esca was impressed he hadn't gone for Placidus yet. He was hardly able to make out what was being screamed. 

“Our bed”, “breach of trust”, “how could you” were part of it.

The twink was wriggling desperately, but Placidus clamped him harder. When Marcus stopped to breathe in, he smirked again, thrust his hips forward provocatively.

“I'm fed up with you, Marcus,” he drawled. “I just couldn't get it into your thick head. You do scream nicely, it's true, but I really want a few other things, too. Your unwillingness to sub properly,” he slapped the twink on his bottom, “means I have to satisfy myself otherwise,”  
“Stay still!” he snarled at the lithe man, who was scrabbling forward.

“Jeez, let him up!” Esca said, utterly disgusted.

Placidus looked past Marcus, started in surprise, which gave the man the opportunity to wriggle away and fall over the side of the bed, and then sneered.

“Oh, it's the creepy English lodger. I bet you've been laying down there, listening to me fuck Marcus' brains out every night, eh?”

“I use ear buds,” Esca said, stung, with a bright red flush creeping up his face.

Marcus turned shocked eyes on him. The twink appeared, holding a pair of trousers and creeping past them all on hands and legs. Once beyond the door, he got up and struggled into his pants, not looking at anybody.

Marcus took a deep breath.

“I want you out,” he said to Placidus. “Now. Go away. Don't come back,”

“Really, Marcus. I will do no such thing. I will get up and wash like a civilised person. And then I will pack a bag,”

Marcus breathed heavily. His fists opened and closed, he squeezed his eyes shut. Then he lifted his head, marched to the dresser, ripped it open, the door crashing back and falling off, grabbed a pair of jeans and flung them at Placidus. Then he came over, picked him up, carried him to the ruined door and flung him into the hall. 

“No you won't,” he said and turned his back. 

He then saw Esca and the twink staring at him.

“You. Go,” he ordered.

Esca went.

“Er. I'm sorry. I didn't..” the other man started.

“Yes. I get it. Now go,” Marcus said. 

Once all three were in the hall, he picked up the door and leaned it against the frame from within.

Placidus uttered a curse, pulled on the jeans over his nakedness and got hold of the door.

“I wouldn't go in there,” Esca warned.

“I need my money, you clot. And if you didn't realise, I can't go out dressed only in some pants,”

He seemed rather unsure, though. 

“I don't think Marcus cares at the moment,” Esca said.

“Even my car keys... I've got a gym bag in the back,” Placidus went on.

Marcus had obviously been listening, because a moment later, a t-shirt was flung into Placidus' face, followed by two shoes into the ribs. Marcus followed up with a briefcase, which opened and splashed its content over the hallway. Esca caught sight of a money clip and a leather wallet. A keyring followed a minute later. Placidus stared at it narrowly, then sighed. The house key had been wrenched off. He pulled on the t-shirt, gathered the papers and the money and left for the stairs. The twink had already vanished.


	4. Time to heal

Esca had dawdled at the university. He must have spent hours chatting to the department secretary, and then helped out a TA with marking essays. Finally, he decided to grow a pair and return home. 

The lights were off in the flat above his. He scuttled up the stairs, glad it was too late for his neighbours to stop him and gossip about the extraordinary scenes from this morning, and opened the door to his flat. Above him all was quiet. Feeling like a coward, Esca got ready for bed, but tossed and turned, stomach churning.

Waking up next day was hard. He had finally dropped off, at some point early in the morning, and was not pleased when his alarm clock woke him up. He managed to get up and pad into the shower. With a towel around him, he mooched into the kitchen to start some tea, cursing the fact that he had no coffee here. That would really be useful now, at least to wake up. He set up his porridge to boil and collapsed into his kitchen chair, staring blearily into his tea.

He had been dozing away when there was a knock on his door. Esca jerked up, cursed, pulled his porridge off the hotplate and made for the door, opening it, realised he’d forgotten to stick the safety chain on and that he was only wearing a towel. And it just had to be Marcus, hadn’t it?

“Oh. Sorry. I’ve disturbed you,” Marcus said. He looked like hell.

“Marcus! Um. Come in! Let me throw on some clothes…”

Marcus came in and closed the door.

Esca ran into his bedroom and hectically searched for clothes. He rejected his old clothes, ripped open his wardrobe, cursed when he realised he should have done a wash ages ago and finally dug out an old pair and a tight t-shirt. Then he dragged a brush through his hair, caught himself in the mirror and cursed. He looked like he wanted to go clubbing, the jeans were riding low on his hips and had ripped across the knees. His t-shirt was molded to his chest. Not the sort of get-up for lending a sympathetic air to your upstairs neighbour, was it? He cursed again loudly.

“Are you alright, Esca?” Marcus asked from the kitchen.

“Yeah, sorry, banged my arm,” Esca lied and sheepishly went back to his guest.

He quickly dropped into his chair, hiding his tight jeans. 

“I wanted to apologise for yesterday,” Marcus said, staring hard at the table top.

“Ah! Well. No, why would you. No need,”

“Yes, there is. It must have been excruciating to watch,” Marcus interrupted.

“Marcus! How can you be so nice all the time?” Esca asked. “Your boyfriend cheated on you in front of your neighbour! You’re allowed to feel pissed off and not apologise!”

Marcus flinched, then gave a sad little smile. 

“Still. And I wanted to apologise for the ceiling, too.”

“Ceiling?” Esca asked, not comprehending, then did and flushed a painful red.

Marcus watched him and then nodded. “About that. Yes. I guess I know now why the new lodgers always moved out so fast. I feel terrible,”

“Uhm. No. Look, my mum bought me ear buds…”

Marcus clapped both hands over his face. “Oh, of course, your mother! What must she think of me. And she was so gracious…”

“She actually rather likes you. And she might be my mother, but she’s a woman, and those hags are filthy,” Esca said, blushing an even deeper red.

“Esca! You can’t say things like that about your mother! She’s a wonderful woman!” Marcus admonished severely, then dropped his head again. “I should write her a letter, to apologise…”

“Will you stop with this self-effacing apology crap!” Esca exploded. 

Marcus looked up, surprise all over his face.

“Look. I need to apologise, if anything. I’ve been listening to you from above, what does that make me?” Esca asked. “I should have mentioned the thing before, when you made me a friend. Instead, I said nothing. When Placidus called me a creepy stalker, he may not have been so far off. So please. Stop apologising for things you could do nothing about. Placidus cheated on you, in your own home, you had a big row, your friends heard about it. It’s ok! It happens!”

“Did you really have to use ear buds?” Marcus asked after a minute, with a tiny little grin creeping over his broken expression. 

Esca was so relieved to see it he decided not to mention that the first time he’d used them was two days ago, so he nodded.

“I should have done something about the floors ages ago,” Marcus said. 

“Isn’t that the job of the landlord?” Esca asked.

“I am the landlord. That is, my uncle is. He’s got a lot of property around the town, and we are slowly refurbishing it. I did most of this place a couple of years ago, and I’ve been living in the top apartment all the while, so I guess I forgot. You have to pull up the floorboards and all, you see.”

“This place belongs to your uncle?” Esca asked surprised. 

“Yeah. Once I got discharged,” Marcus rubbed his leg, “I was at loose ends. And well, he needed someone to do the nitty-gritty on these places, so I did that,”

“Well, that certainly helps with regards to your front door,” Esca said.

“Oh yes,” Marcus ducked his head again, then looked up and started to laugh. “I ran right through the door! I kicked it off its hinges!”

“It was like Daffy Duck running through a wall!” Esca joined in, starting to laugh too.

“And did you see the face of that poor little twink?” Marcus added. “I thought he was going to pass out in shock!”

“Oh yeah. And then you kicked everyone out buck naked…”

They both laughed louder.

“I tell you, I felt very overdressed that morning,” Esca added with a wink.

Marcus, who was calming down, looked at Esca, took a breath and started howling again, slapping his thighs.  
Then his breath hitched, and he started to cry.

“Oh, Marcus, no!” Esca said, jumped up and rushed to his side. There he hovered, not knowing what to do.

“This is so pathetic,” Marcus finally managed through tears. “You probably think I’m the biggest idiot that ever lived,”

“Hey, no, don’t,” Esca hastened to supply. “Break-ups are messy, it doesn’t matter whether you’re gay or straight. When I broke up with Liathan I spent a whole week under my bed…”

He finally closed the distance and hugged Marcus round the shoulders. Marcus sank his head into his neck and bawled.  
Esca cradled his neck and soothed a thumb over the short hair. His neck got wet, and his back protested. Suddenly he was glad his brother Fintan had produced a couple of offspring, it meant he had a t least some experience of soothing tears. 

Slowly, the sobs became less. Marcus lifted his head, and sniffed inelegantly, rubbing a large hand over his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,”

“Stop saying that,” Esca ordered, surreptitiously tweaking the wet spot of his t-shirt away from his skin.

Marcus gave him a wobbly smile.

“I miss him,”

Esca opened his mouth – and closed it. Counted to ten, and then said: “That’s ok. You were together for ages. It’s natural,”

Marcus burst into tears again. Esca rolled his eyes, and went back to his position of hugging. He hoped he’d meet Placidus down some dark alley at some point.

Getting a cup of hot sweet tea into Marcus proved a challenge. He’d accepted the plate of toast and poached egg Esca had fixed him, but not the tea.

“You should really drink it. You need it,” Esca argued.

“I could go and get some coffee, if you insist on tipping a hot beverage down my throat,” Marcus said, eyeing the steaming cup unfavourably.

“Too much caffeine. And you drink coffee black. This is better than Prozac, trust me,” Esca forced the cup into Marcus’ hand.

Marcus made another face, but obediently took a drink. 

“It tastes really milky,” he complained. 

“It’s supposed to. Drink it up, I’m reckoned to be a really great maker of a cuppa,”

“Cuppa?” Marcus finished the cup and gently placed it on the table.

“Cup of tea, restorative of the Empire,” Esca intoned.

“Forgive me, but the Empire is done, isn’t it?”

“Restorative of the British Isles, then,”

“Hasn’t there been some sort of devolution?”

“Stop being logical. You’re taking the fun out of it,”

Marcus laughed a little. Esca was glad it wasn’t the same hysterical pitch from before. Then he yawned hugely.

“You look tired. You should get to bed,” Esca said.

Marcus nodded. “I threw the mattress and all the bedding out, and I still haven’t fixed the door,” he finally confessed.

“Oh. Well, that was a decisive exorcism,”

Then the penny dropped.

“You can sleep here, if you like. Got the guest bed,” he added nonchalantly.

Marcus nodded eagerly.

“Right. I’ll fix you another cuppa, and go and make the bed,” Esca decided. Marcus made a face. “Thanks, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather drink some water,”

“Philistine,” Esca sniffed, smiling at him.

Marcus smiled back. 

Esca was shaking up the pillows in the spare room when he abruptly realised he had fallen out of lust and utterly, irredeemably into love.


	5. Getting to the next part

“I think you need to move out,” Marcus said over a beer a couple of nights later. 

Esca spluttered out his mouthful. “What?!”

They were sitting in Marcus’ sofa, watching the Dallas Mavericks play, Marcus with interest and Esca with boredom.

“I’m doing up the ceiling, this coming week. Rip up the floorboards, get some insulation down. It will mean a lot of dust in your apartment,”

“Right,” Esca coughed. “For a minute, I thought you were kicking me out,” he grinned.

“I wouldn’t do that!” Marcus said scandalise, then grinned. “Although sometimes… you snore, and your tea is dreadful,”

“Tea is dreadful? How would you know, man who drinks Budweiser?”

Marcus laughed, and shoved him in the shoulder. There was a small tussle, which ended with the bowl of popcorn overturning and Esca’s head clamped firmly under Marcus’ warm, strong hands. 

“Ahh, let me up,” Esca sniggered, wriggling for purchase and weakly scrabbling at Marcus’ wrists. Marcus let him up, and Esca immediately assaulted him, tickling his ribs where the skin showed through one of the ugly basketball shirts Marcus tended to wear. 

“No fair!” Marcus screamed, tried to hold him off. But Esca was the youngest of three boys, he knew how to fight dirty. Especially now he knew Marcus was ticklish. Gleefully, he attacked whatever parts of Marcus he could get at, reducing the larger man to a giggling, quivering heap on the sofa.

“How did you ever manage to pass boot camp?” Esca asked wonderingly, sitting on Marcus’ back, his hands slowing to a gentler scritch over his neck.

Marcus had his upper arms clamped tightly over his armpits, his head hidden in the sofa cushions.

“It never stopped being ticklish, even overstimulated,” he gasped out, then relaxed when he realised Esca wasn’t going to keep on tickling. He groaned and relaxed even deeper into the cushions when Esca found a knot in the shoulder which he rubbed.

Esca rubbed out the knot, then gave Marcus a pat on the back and levered off him. Groaning, Marcus sat back up again.

“Ow. Thanks,” he rubbed his shoulder too. “I think I overdid it in the gym,”

“Want me to go over the rest of ‘em?” Esca offered. “I’m semi-professional. I did a couple of courses at college and earned some money that way,”

Marcus nodded eagerly.

Esca got up, spread a blanket on the floor and nodded at it, then made for the bathroom and found some body lotion to use. Marcus had clicked off the game and was lying on the floor, hands at his sides. Esca trailed his eyes over the expanse of back. Two things immediately came to mind. One, Marcus had a beautiful back, with wide shoulders tapering to slim hips, freckles lightly sprinkled over; and two – massaging all that muscles was going to exhaust Esca completely. Oh well. At least the exhaustion meant that any inappropriate responses would stay at half-mast.

“Put your head on your hands,” he ordered.

Marcus complied. Esca settled at his head and started a warm-up routine before getting into the shoulders.

“Jeez, Marcus, what did you do to your shoulders,” he asked, trying to massage some pliability into the iron-like fibre.

“Haven’t really had time to get it looked at,” Marcus answered, rather muffled and short of breath. “I ran through a door with this shoulder, remember? Once the bruising went down, I thought it would be ok, but there is some residual stiffness,”

Esca snorted a laugh and squirted some more lotion on his hands.

“Sheesh that’s cold!” Marcus exclaimed. 

“Sorry,” Esca briskly rubbed his hands over the skin, then pressed down both sides of the spine before coming back with sweeping strokes.

“Hmm. You’re good at this,” Marcus mumbled.

“Cheers. Although don’t mistake me for a proper therapist. I do what’s considered spa treatment,”

“Spa treatment? You mean you’re going to paint my nails, too?”

Esca nearly swallowed his tongue, and hoped he sounded joking when he said: “Only if you want me to,”

“Maybe later, after a sea salt foot scrub and a pedicure,”

“And what choice of nail varnish?”

“Coral pink. And I want a red highlights and a little Svarovski diamond,”

Laughing, Esca went back to the shoulder, stroking briskly along the fibres. Something shifted, and Marcus let out a long groan.

“Hah. Haven't lost my touch,” gleefully, Esca started separating muscle groups from the snarl he felt under his fingertips. Then moved over to the other shoulder for more of the same.

“Your back's going to be really tender for a day or two,” he informed Marcus as he pressed down with an elbow.

“Mhm?”

“Never mind. Tell me where I'm supposed to stay for however long it will take you to do the floors here,”

“Mhm.”

“You can't fall asleep! For f... Marcus?”

“M'wake,”

“No you're not,” Esca sighed, gentling his hands to long slow strokes. Marcus laid his head to the side. He relaxed even more. And then there was the first tiny little snore. Sighing, Esca finished the back, and carefully layered another blanket over him. Then he sat down on the sofa, muted the sound of the game, channel-hopped until he found something worth watching, and settled back down to his beer. Every now and again, he picked up a thrown piece of popcorn out of the upholstery to eat.


	6. Detours

“This reminds me of my first student house,”

“Sorry,”

“No, really. The badly fitting windows, the slight but noticeable smell from the pipes, the suggestion of rats. I feel quite nostalgic,”

“I’m really sorry,”

“At least it’s only for a few days, right?”

“…”

“Right?”

Marcus gave Esca a hang-dog look. 

“You must be joking! Are we to stay in this shit-hole indefinitely? I plan to study mould in the lab, not my home!”

If anything, Marcus’ head bowed further. 

“Oh, please no,” Esca moaned.

Then looked up sharply when Marcus started to laugh.

“Oh, you bastard,”

“You fell for it! You totally fell for it! Your face!”

“You… You…”

“You really thought I was going to make you stay here for longer than a couple of days?”

“Does this mean we don’t have to stay in this place, either, and you just traumatised me for fun?” Esca asked hopefully.

Marcus hiccupped another laugh. “It’s actually the apartment below. I finished it last week. This one is going to be next along. The tenants for the one below will be here next week, we’ve got it until then,”

Fondly shaking his head, Esca grabbed up his bag. 

“Ok, then. Lead the way,”

“You’re taking me out and buying me beer for that,” Esca informed him once Marcus had let them in to the flat down the corridor. “My nerves may never recover,”

“So what was that protestation that you’d lived in shit-holes before, then?” Marcus grinned.

“It usually ended with getting turfed out by the landlord, for making the hole even shittier than before,”

Marcus shook his head. “Don’t try this here. The landlord doesn’t like it,”

“Oh, what would he do?”

“He’s got this big scary nephew who’ll come around to talk to you,”

“I’m not scared,”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I fight dirty. And I know where the nephew gets ticklish,”

Marcus made a leap for him, Esca evaded, got chased through the flat and both ended tussling on the livingroom carpet. This time, Marcus pinned him securely.

“Ah, get off, you lump!” Esca gasped.

“No. You fight dirty,” Marcus said smugly, rolling more of his considerable frame on top of him, hands clamped over Esca’s wrists above his head.

Esca relaxed. “Promise not to tickle?” he asked hopefully.

“I fell for that one just yesterday,” Marcus wiggled into a more comfortable position on top of him, settling his chin on Esca’s chest to look him in the eyes.

“Really really promise?”

“Nope,” Marcus smiled.

They stared at each other for a bit. Esca tried tensing his hands up, but Marcus surged over him to hold them down, bringing his face level to Esca’s. They stared each other in the eye, and then Esca wasn’t sure if he had lifted his head or Marcus had put his down, but their noses bumped gently. Esca had to giggle, then Marcus joined in, putting his head into Esca's neck to laugh quietly. After a moment he fell silent, turning his head further into the crook of Esca'S head.

“Are you going to stay that way?” Esca asked.

“Yeah. It's comfortable,” Marcus answered.

“It's me you're lying on,” Esca pointed out.

“You're comfortable, then,”

“And you're heavy,”

Marcus let go of his hands and heaved himself up onto his arms, arching off Esca's chest. He grinned down at him. 

“Admit it. I defeated you,”

“You did not,” Esca said, but left his hands where they were. Marcus laughed, patted him on the chest, then got to his knees and prepared to stand up. His bad leg must have pulled a bit, for he caught his balance with one large warm hand on Esca's hip. Then he offered his hand down. Esca grabbed it and hunched up, glad his t-shirt was baggy. Lying under Marcus had been incredibly erotic, and he had to admit to a small charge going through him at how easily Marcus had pinned him down. But that warm hand on his hip – as soon as Marcus turned his back, he jerked his hand down to squeeze his nuts, in the hope of controlling his raging hard-on.

Esca had thought the next days would be absolute, exquisite torture, trying to repress his feelings, but as it happened, things went belly-up in the lab, with one phd candidate having a nervous break-down and destroying his work and throwing a bottle of acid at the wall, which caused an emergency response. 

Esca spent three hours being interviewed by Homeland Security, because apparently losing your temper in a biology lab of a university was a terrorist act nowadays and implicated all those surrounding you to boot. Once Homeland Security was satisfied that fungus could not be used by terrorists to harm the American people, Esca was allowed to go to his completely ruined work. 

He then had a little breakdown of his own, watching two years work swirling into hazard bags. By the time he was allowed to go, it was after midnight. He joined a group of furious scientists and all headed to the nearest bar to drown their sorrows, and he woke up the next day laying in somebody’s bed he had only ever changed one word with before.

“Oh. God,” he groaned. 

He looked around carefully. The other side of the bed was rumpled. Had he…? A look under the covers confirmed the worst. He was naked. And there was dried stuff coating his stomach and balls.

Sheet tugged out and wrapped around him, he began searching for his clothes. There was a trail, thank whoever looked after drunks during one-night-stands. He bent to pick up his trousers, and cursed when he felt a burn in his arse. Bits of yesterday were starting to reappear. 

“Oh! You’re awake! I was going to bring you a coffee,” his new friend appeared in front of him, holding out the cup.

“Yeah, …Brett. Morning,”

“Good morning,” Brett beamed, looking pleased. “Do you want some breakfast?”

“Er. I – no. No, bad idea,”

“Oh,” Brett’s face fell. 

Esca grabbed the coffee, for something better to do, dropped his trousers and had to struggle to keep the sheet around himself.

“What time is it, anyway?” he asked.

“Gone past eleven,”

“Shiiit!”

“You have to be somewhere?” Brett asked.

“I was supposed to go to the emergency meeting at the faculty! Shit! Bugger!”

Slamming down the cup, Esca desperately started throwing on clothes, hobbling along the carpet with one leg in his trousers and one out, grabbing his t-shirt and pullover and struggling into them, which made him fall over, crashing into a door.

Brett looked around wildly, making a grab at some things on the floor. 

“Here’s your socks, and your boots are at the door,”

“My jacket!!” Esca wailed.

The jacket was found underneath the couch table. Esca slammed into his boots and wrenched open the door.

“What about your underpants?” Brett called after him as he ran down the stairs.

“If you find them, return them to me,” Esca called back, cursing himself a fool. 

On top of having to negotiate the public transport from a part of town he’d never been in, he was unwashed and chafing in his trousers. Wearing skinny jeans without some barrier between his skin and the rough denim was proving a particular torture, especially as everything felt rather tender. And he smelled. Esca sighed. One of his mum’s aphorisms came to his mind – as you drink in the evening, spare a thought for the next day.

“Doing that, mum,” he whispered to himself. The headache was also catching up to him now. How many sticky drinks had he had? And why did people in the US think that gays only drank cocktails with an umbrella in it? His colleagues had tried to console him by buying him drinks all evening, and there hadn’t been one beer among them.

“Late night?” his professor shouted heartily from the front of the packed seminar room upon spying Esca slinking in.

“Sorry, Austin,” Esca answered sheepishly, shielding his eyes against the bright lights.

“Not to worry,” Austin bellowed back. “A few others have managed to come in in your condition, too,”

Esca hoped his voice would go down a bit, but knowing the execrable humour this man had, he had deliberately chosen the brightest room and specially coached his voice to be a s loud as possible. 

“You are a sadist, Austin,” he told him, once his professor had invited him into his study to talk about what to do about the lost work.

“My dear boy, I feel quite humane! I was going to offer a round of Hot Dogs to everybody as a snack, when I heard where most of my faculty had repaired to. Actually, would you like one?” He pulled a greasy packet out of a bag and offered it.

Esca reached the bin just in time.


	7. To the last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh. A long time ago, I wrote this story for the eagle kink meme. And then I decided to upload it here, and, late one night, roughly formatted it and stuck it here. And then promptly forgot to add the last chapter. I'm very sorry.

“What happened to you?” Marcus asked disbelievingly when Esca finally managed to crawl back to their borrowed flat.

“There was an emergency in the lab yesterday. My work was destroyed, and all of us went on the razz. I got completely pissed, and woke somewhere and then had to attend emergency meetings all day with a hangover,” Esca muttered.

“Your work got destroyed? That’s terrible!”

“Yeah. I’d been growing that fungus for two years! You have no idea how long it took to get permission to enter it through customs.”

“Mould? You grow mould?”

“I’m a biologist, Marcus. It’s my field,”

“Sorry. And I'm sorry about your fungus, too.”

“God, I need a shower.”

“Yeah. You smell really bad.”

Esca grinned at him. “I've smelt this way since this morning. I was getting used to the offended reactions from all my colleagues.”

“Gross! Remove your smell, I saved you some of my hotpot. I'll heat it up for you.”

“Cheers!” Esca shouted, already struggling out of his t-shirt.

After a wonderful long shower, he wound his towel around him and looked at himself in the mirror. It was then that he noticed the large red hickey on his lower back. He grimaced in disgust.

Hickeys were such a possessive thing, not something he wanted from his stupid drunken night with Brett!

Showered, he wandered out into the flat to join Marcus, towel slung round his hips. It was warm in the apartment, and it felt good. Marcus smiled at him from the kitchen nook.

“Perfect timing! Hang on, I'll plate up.”

“You're the best,” Esca said. He wadded his old clothes into a  
ball and turned to chuck them into his bag. Behind him Marcus sucked in a breath.

“You ok?” Esca asked, turning back in concern.

“Yeah. Just – splashed myself,” Marcus said, staring at his hand.

“Ah. Stick it under running water, that'll help,” Esca advised. “I hate it when the food revolts.”

Marcus didn't laugh at the feeble jest, but did turn on the water and hold his fingers under the stream. All through the evening following, he seemed preoccupied.

“Are you alright?” Esca finally asked in concern.

“Oh. Yes. Yes, fine. Just – never mind.”

“Come on, what's wrong?”

“Oh, just, personal stuff. Nothing to compare to your lab misery.”

“We could be miserable together.”

Marcus smiled, bumped their shoulders together and took a long pull of his beer. Esca knew him well enough by now to know this meant Marcus wasn't going to talk.

A couple of days later, Marcus had finished with the floorboards, and announced they could move back.

“Wonderful,” Esca groaned. “This sofa in here was giving me cricks.”

“You could have had the bed.”

“And put you out? With your leg? No way.”

“We could have shared,” Marcus said, and he looked rather sad.

Esca sat down heavily on the lovely imagery presenting itself, and tried for levity.

“But you hog the covers!”

“No I don't.”

Esca laughed, and Marcus shook whatever funny mood he was in off.

They met up that evening and cleaned up the borrowed flat, then packed up Marcus' car and drove back to the old red brick.

“We should test the sound,” Esca announced. “See if you proofed properly.”

“How are we to do this?” Marcus asked.

“Have a party and play loud music.”

“In my apartment, no doubt?”

“Well, yeah. I can sit below like a gooseberry and check while you have fun up there.”

Marcus broke into a gale of laughter. “Gooseberry? Is that some sort of English term I'm supposed to know?”

“Wallflower, you American nitwit.”

“Nah. Can't do that. Wouldn't be the same without you.”

Esca felt his ears warm. “So how do we test it then?”

“We could ask old Mrs Devinsky to apartment-sit for you, while we party up above. If we play Black Sabbath and she hears it, she'll be round like a shot dragging Pastor Stevenson to do an exorcism.”

“Can't do that, she'll bring her incontinent dog”

“What's a little pee between neighbors?”

“The smell?”

“Ok, you've got me there.”

Still chuckling about the whole silly conversation, Esca dragged up his bag to his flat, cursing the fact that he had inexplicably brought back more stuff that he had taken with him in the first place. At a lower pace lumbered Marcus, favouring his leg which he had twisted packing the car. He held their combined groceries as well as his minimalist kit over one shoulder.

Esca glanced back fondly, thinking of what he could do to get Marcus interested in him, when he saw somebody lingering in front of his door.

“Esca! I've been waiting all day for you to come back!”

“Brett?” Esca exclaimed, with a sinking feeling in his stomach. This could not end well.

“You didn't call!”

“Well, why? We saw each other at the faculty, didn't we?”

“The faculty? I want to talk to you?”

“Well, what about?” Esca asked, hoping...

“About us!” Brett shrilled, just as Marcus appeared around the corner.

“Hi,” he said, smiling, but warily.

Brett turned incredulous eyes on him.

“You are cheating on me already?” he squeaked.

“Brett! There's no us!”

“How can you say that? We had mind-blowing sex! You stayed the whole night!”

“Could we maybe not shout in the corridor?”

“How dare you!” Brett wailed.

“Look, Brett. I'm Marcus, I'm Esca's upstairs neighbor,” Marcus interjected.

“You home-breaker!” Brett screamed.

“Brett! Shut up! We had meaningless sex on a one-night stand! It isn't pink rainbows into eternity!” Esca called back, voice going louder.

“Meaningless sex?” wailed Brett.

“I'm really sorry, especially if I led you on, but the truth is, I don't remember a lot of that night. I don't even remember going home with you. I only remembered your name because I know you're a TA for Professor Mickley.”

“You, but you liked me! We'll have to try again, when you're sober...”

“No! I don't ewant to! Having sex with you was a mistake, listen, Brett - “

“You disgusting little Jezebel!” Brett screamed, poking Esca in the chest. “Do you spread for everybody?”

“Now, really, you twat,” Esca started.

“Does this soldier get a go?” Brett asked snidely. “I bet you'd like to be used...”

“Ok, enough,” Marcus ordered.

“Trollop! You shouldn't spread for him, it lowers the tone...”

“I wish I'd slept with Marcus rather than you, because truth to tell, I'D really like to, and you were just an awful mistake!” Esca shouted.

“I didn't say that aloud, did I?” he asked after a moment, when both the other two gaped at him.

Brett swung out his fist, catching Esca on the nose, then flung something grey at him and with a strangled cry, ran out.

Esca groaned, and blood started flowing down. He his his head in his hands, not wanting to look at Marcus' shell-shocked face.

“Here, let me look,” Marcus offered. A gentle hand was laid on his neck.

“I'm sorry,” Esca mumbled.

“It's alright. Payback, I guess. You witnessed my terrible break-up, I get to witness yours.”

“First time a tragedy, second time a farce?” Esca asked, glancing from below his eyelashed up at Marcus.

“Oh, yes,” Marcus bent down to pick up the grey thing on the ground.

“Huh. Looks like a pair of underpants."

“Oh, God. Those are mine. I couldn't find them when I woke up at Brett's place.”

“Yuck.”

“Gie' them over.”

Marcus did, and Esca used them to staunch the flow of blood.”

“Disgusting,” Marcus commented mildly. “Give me your keys.”

He opened the flat for Esca, and guided him gently to the kitchen table, then wet a cloth and put it on the back of his neck.

“Thangs,” Esca said, nose already swelling.

“Will you be ok for a minute?”

“Yeah.”

The warmth at his shoulder left. Esca felt bereft. There were sounds behind him, dragging and clanking, and the door closed. A minute later Marcus was back, laying the groceries on the table. Esca watched him unpacking for a minute.

“Aboud whad I said,” he started.

“It's ok. Break-up shouting.”

“No. Listen,” Esca took a deep breath, knowing it was now or never. Screw your courage to the sticking point, Cunoval, he thought.

“I really lige you. And I'd really lige to go on a dade with you.”

Marcus slowly set down the coffee jar.

“Esca,” he said, strangled.

“I thing I fell in love with you,” Esca said hurriedly. “You're  
such a gread guy, and funny and brave and dodally adorable and cude -”

“Esca, I'm...”

“An I used to listen to you and Placidus when I thoughd it was you maging Placidus scream, and I fandasised about you maging me scream,” Esca hurried on.

Marcus' face had taken on an extraordinary colour, and he looked gobsmacked.

“And then you had the breag-ub and I fell in love wiv you all over again, begause you deserve somebody bedder than Placidus, begause he's a dig, and I'm reall not worthy of you, but...”

“Esca!”

Esca shut up. Marcus passed both hands over his flaming face. Then his face hardened, and he took a step forward. Esca nearly flinched.

Marcus put one hand on his neck again, tilted the other up and crushed his mouth on to Esca's. Right! Esca thought. This was more like it. First time the verbal diarrhoea had worked too. Marcus cupped his chin, deepening the kiss. Black spots started swimming in front of Esca's eyes, because he wasn't able to breathe through his nose. Still. What a way to go!


End file.
